ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER.
As Mr. Menaida spoke, Miss Dionysia Trevisa entered, stiff, hard, and
when her eyes fell on Judith, they contracted with an expression of
antipathy. In the eyes alone was this observable, for her face was
immovable.
"Auntie!" exclaimed Judith, drawing her into the sitting-room, and
pressing her to take the arm chair.
"Oh, Auntie! I have so longed to see you--there have been some
dreadful men here--doctors I think--and they have been teasing Jamie,
till they had worked him into one of his temper fits."
"I sent them here, and for good reasons. Jamie is to go back to
Wadebridge."
"No--indeed no! auntie! do not say that. You would not say it if you
knew all."
"I know quite enough. More than is pleasing to me. I have heard of
your outrageous and unbecoming conduct. Hoity! toity! To think that a
Trevisa--but there you are one only in name--should go out at night,
about the streets and lanes, like a common stray. Bless me! you might
have knocked me down with a touch, when I was told of it."
"I did nothing outrageous and unbecoming, aunt. You may be sure of
that. I am quite aware that I am a Trevisa, and a gentlewoman, and
something higher than that, aunt--a Christian. My father never let me
forget that."
"Your conduct was--well I will give it no expletive."
"Aunt, I did what was right. I was sure that Jamie was unhappy and
wanted me. I cannot tell you how I knew it, but I was certain of it,
and I had no peace till I went; and, as I found the garden door open,
I went in, and as I went in I found Jamie locked up in the cellars,
and I freed him. Had you found him there, you would have done the
same."
"I have heard all about it. I want no repetition of a very scandalous
story. Against my will I am burdened with an intolerable obligation,
to look after an idiot nephew and a niece that is a self-willed and
perverse Miss."
"Jamie is no idiot," answered Judith, firmly.
"Jamie is what those pronounce him to be, who by their age, their
profession, and their inquiries are calculated to judge better than an
ignorant girl, not out of her teens."
"Auntie I believe you have been misinformed. Listen to me, and I will
tell you what happened. As for those men----"
"Those men were doctors. Perhaps they were misinformed when they went
through the College of Surgeons, were misinformed by all the medical
books they have read, were misdirected by all the study of the mental
and bodily maladies of men they have made, in their professional
course."
"I wish, dear Aunt Dionysia, you would take Jamie to be with you a few
weeks, talk to him, play with him, go walks with him, and you will
never say that he is an idiot. He needs careful management, and also a
little application----"
"Enough of that theme," interrupted Miss Trevisa, "I have not come
here to be drawn into an argument, or to listen to your ideas of the
condition of that unhappy, troublesome, that provoking boy. I wish to
heaven I had not the responsibility for him, that has been thrust on
me, but as I have to exercise it, and there is no one to relieve me of
it, I must do my best, though it is a great expense to me. Seventy
pounds is not seventy shillings, nor is it seventy pence."
"Aunt, he is not to go back to the asylum. He _must not_ go."
"Hoity-toity! _must not_ indeed. You, a minx of eighteen to dictate to
me! Must not, indeed! You seem to think that you, and not I, are
Jamie's guardian."
"Papa entrusted him to me with his last words."
"I know nothing about last words. In his will I am constituted his
guardian and yours, and as such I shall act as my convenience--conscience
I mean, dictates."
"But, Aunt! Jamie is not to go back to Wadebridge. Aunt! I entreat
you! I know what that place is. I have been inside it, you have not.
And just think of Jamie on the very first night being locked up
there."
"He richly deserved it, I will be bound."
"Oh, Aunt! How could he? How could he?"
"Of that Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray was the best judge. Why he had to be
punished you do not know."
"Indeed I do. He cried because the place was strange, and he was among
strange faces. Aunt--if you were whipped off to Timbuctoo, and
suddenly found yourself among savages, and in a rush apron, as the
squaw of a black chief, or whatever they call their wives in Timbuctoo
land, would you not scream?"
"Judith," said Miss Trevisa, bridling up. "You forget yourself."
"No, Aunt! I am only pleading for Jamie, trying to make you feel for
him, when he was locked up in an asylum. How would you like it, Aunt,
if you were snatched away to Barthelmy fair, and suddenly found
yourself among tight-rope dancers, and Jack Puddings?"
"Judith, I insist on you holding your tongue. I object to being
associated even in fancy, with such creatures."
"Well--but Jamie was associated, not in fancy, but in horrible
reality, with idiots."
"Jamie goes to Scantlebray's Asylum to-day."
"Auntie!"
"He is already in the hands of the brothers Scantlebray."
"Oh, Auntie--no--no!"
"It is no pleasure to me to have to find the money, you may well
believe. Seventy pounds is not, as I said, seventy pence, it is not
seventy farthings. But duty is duty, and however painful and
unpleasant and costly, it must be performed."
Then from the adjoining room, "the shop," came Mr. Menaida.
"I beg pardon for an interruption and for interference," said he. "I
happen to have overheard what has passed, as I was engaged in the next
room, and I believe that I can make a proposal which will perhaps be
acceptable to you, Miss Trevisa, and grateful to Miss Judith."
"I am ready to listen to you," said Aunt Dionysia, haughtily.
"It is this," said Uncle Zachie. "I understand that pecuniary matters
concerning Jamie are a little irksome. Now the boy, if he puts his
mind to it, can be useful to me. He has a remarkable aptitude for
taxidermy. I have more orders on my hands than I can attend to. I am a
gentleman, not a tradesman, and I object to be oppressed--flattened
out--with the orders piled on top of me. But if the boy will help, he
can earn sufficient to pay for his living here with me."
"Oh, Mr. Menaida, dear Mr. Menaida! thank you so much," exclaimed
Judith.
"Perhaps you will allow me to speak," said Miss Trevisa, with
asperity. "I am guardian, and not you, whatever you may think from
certain vague expressions breathed casually from my poor brother's
lips, and to which you have attached an importance he never gave to
them."
"Aunt, I assure you, my dear papa----"
"That question is closed. We will not reopen it. I am a Trevisa. I
can't for a moment imagine where you got those ideas. Not from your
father's family, I am sure. Tight-rope dancers and Timbuctoos,
indeed!" Then she turned to Mr. Menaida, and said, in her hard,
constrained voice, as though she were exercising great moral control
to prevent herself from snapping at him with her teeth. "Your proposal
is kind and well intentioned, but I cannot accept it."
"Oh, Aunt! why not?"
"That you shall hear. I must beg you not to interrupt me. You are so
familiar with the manners of Timbuctoo and of Barthelmy Fair, that you
forget those pertaining to England and polished society." Then,
turning to Mr. Menaida, she said: "I thank you for your
well-intentioned proposal, which, however, it is not possible for me
to close with. I must consider the boy's ulterior advantage, not the
immediate relief to my sorely-taxed purse. I have thought proper to
place Jamie with a person, a gentleman of experience, and highly
qualified to deal with those mentally afflicted. However much I may
value you, Mr. Menaida, you must excuse me for saying that firmness is
not a quality you have cultivated with assiduity. Judith, my niece,
has almost ruined the boy by humoring him. You cannot stiffen a jelly
by setting it in the sun, or in a chair before the fire, and that is
what my niece has been doing. The boy must be isinglassed into
solidity by those who know how to treat him. Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray
is the man----"
"To manufacture idiots, madam, out of simple innocents, it is worth
his while at seventy pounds a year," said Uncle Zachie, petulantly.
Miss Trevisa looked at him stonily, and said: "Sir! I suppose you know
best. But it strikes me that such a statement, relative to Mr. Obadiah
Scantlebray, is actionable. But you know best, being a solicitor."
Mr. Menaida winced and drew back.
Judith leaned against the mantel-shelf, trembling with anxiety and
some anger. She thought that her aunt was acting in a heartless manner
toward Jamie, that there was no good reason for refusing the generous
offer of Uncle Zachie. In her agitation, unable to keep her fingers at
rest, the girl played with the little chimney ornaments. She must
occupy her nervous, twitching hands about something; tears of
distressed mortification were swelling in her heart, and a fire was
burning in two flames in her cheeks. What could she do to save Jamie?
What would become of the boy at the asylum? It seemed to her that he
would be driven out of his few wits, by terror and ill-treatment, and
distress at leaving her and losing his liberty to ramble about the
cliffs where he liked. In a vase on the chimney-piece was a bunch of
peacock's feathers, and in her agitation, not thinking what she was
about, desirous only of having something to pick at and play with in
her hands, to disguise the trembling of the fingers, she took out one
of the plumes and trifled with it, waving it and letting the light
undulate over its wondrous surface of gold and green and blue.
"As long as I have responsibility for the urchin----" said Miss
Dionysia.
"Urchin!" muttered Judith.
"As long as I have the charge I shall do my duty according to my
lights, though they may not be those of a rush-aproned squaw in
Timbuctoo, nor of a Jack Pudding balancing a feather on his nose."
There was here a spiteful glance at Judith. "When my niece has a home
of her own--is settled into a position of security and comfort--then I
wash my hands of the responsibility; she may do what she likes
then--bring her brother to live with her if she chooses and her
husband consents--that will be naught to me."
"And in the mean time," said Judith, holding the peacock's feather
very still before her, "in the mean time Jamie's mind is withered and
stunted--his whole life is spoiled. Now--now alone can he be given a
turn aright and toward growth."
"That entirely depends on you," said Miss Trevisa, coldly. "You know
best what opportunities have offered----"
"Aunt, what do you mean?"
"Wait," said Uncle Zachie, rubbing his hands. "My boy Oliver is coming
home. He has written his situation is a good one now."
Miss Trevisa turned on him with a face of marble. "I entirely fail to
see what your son Oliver has to do with the matter, more than the man
in the moon. May I trouble you, as you so deeply interest yourself in
our concerns, to step outside to Messrs. Scantlebray and that boy, and
ask them to bring him in here. I have told them what the circumstances
are, and they are prepared."
Mr. Menaida left the room, not altogether unwilling to escape.
"Now," said Aunt Dionysia, "I am relieved to find that for a minute,
we are by ourselves, not subjected to the prying and eavesdropping of
the impertinent and meddlesome. Mr. Menaida is a man who never did
good to himself or to anyone else in his life, though a man with the
best intentions under the sun. Now, Judith, I am a plain woman--that
is to say--not plain, but straightforward--and I like to have
everything above board. The case stands thus. I, in my capacity as
guardian to that boy, am resolved to consign him immediately to the
asylum, and to retain him there as long as my authority lasts, though
it will cost me a pretty sum. You do not desire that he should go
there. Well and good. There is but one way, but that is effectual, by
means of which you can free Jamie from restraint. Let me tell you he
is now in the hands of Mr. Obadiah, and gagged that he may not rouse
the neighborhood with his screams." Miss Trevisa fixed her hard eyes
on Judith. "As soon as you take the responsibility off me, and on to
yourself, you do with the boy what you like."
"I will relieve you at once."
"You are not in a condition to do so. As soon as I am satisfied that
your future is secure, that you will have a house to call your own,
and a certainty of subsistence for you both--then I will lay down my
charge."
"And you mean----"
"I mean that you must first accept Captain Coppinger, who has been
good enough to find you not intolerable. He is--in this one
particular--unreasonable, however, he is what he is, in this matter.
He makes you the offer, gives you the chance. Take it, and you provide
Jamie and yourself with a home, he has his freedom, and you can manage
or mismanage him as you list. Refuse the chance and Jamie is lodged in
Mr. Scantlebray's establishment within an hour."
"I cannot decide this on the spur of the moment."
"Very well. You can let Jamie go provisionally to the asylum--and stay
there till you have made up your mind."
"No--no--no--Aunt! Never, never!"
"As you will." Miss Trevisa shrugged her shoulders, and cast a glance
at her niece like a dagger-stab.
"Auntie--I am but a child."
"That may be. But there are times when even children must decide
momentous questions. A boy as a child decides on his profession, a
girl--may be--on her marriage."
"Oh, dear Auntie! Do leave Jamie here for, say a fortnight, and in a
fortnight from to-day you shall have my answer."
"No," answered Miss Trevisa, "I also must decide as to my future, for
your decision affects not Jamie only but me also."
Judith had listened in great self-restraint, holding the feather
before her. She held it between thumb and forefinger of both hands,
not concerning herself about it, and yet with her eyes watching the
undulations from the end of the quill to the deep blue eye set in a
halo of gold at the further end, and the feather undulated with every
rise and fall of her bosom.
"Surely, Auntie! You cannot wish me to marry Cruel Coppinger?"
"I have no wishes one way or the other. Please yourself."
"But, Auntie----"
"You profess to be ready to do all you can for Jamie and yet hesitate
about relieving me of an irksome charge, and Jamie of what you
consider barbarous treatment."
"You cannot be serious--_I_ to marry Captain Cruel!"
"It is a serious offer."
"But papa!--what would he say?"
"I never was in a position to tell his thoughts and guess what his
words would be."
"But, Auntie--he is such a bad man."
"You know a great deal more about him than I do, of course."
"But--he is a smuggler, I do know that."
"Well--and what of that. There is no crime in that."
"It is not an honest profession. They say, too, that he is a wrecker."
"They say!--who say? What do you know?"
"Nothing, but I am not likely to trust my future to a man of whom such
tales are told. Auntie! Would you, supposing that you were----"
"I will have none of your suppositions, I never did wear a rush apron,
nor act as Jack Pudding."
"I cannot--Captain Cruel of all men."
"Is he so hateful to you?"
"Hateful--no; but I cannot like him. He has been kind, but--somehow I
can't think of him as--as--as a man of our class and thoughts and
ways, as one worthy of my own, own papa. No--it is impossible, I am
still a child."
She took the end of the peacock's feather, the splendid eye lustrous
with metallic beauty, and bowed the plume without breaking it, and,
unconscious of what she was doing, stroked her lips with it. What a
fragile fine quill that was on which hung so much beauty? and how
worthless the feather would be when that quill was broken. And so with
her--her fine, elastic, strong spirit, that when bowed sprang to its
uprightness the moment the pressure was withdrawn; that on which all
her charm, her beauty hung.
"Captain Coppinger has, surely, never asked you to put this
alternative to me?"
"No--I do it myself. As you are a child, you are unfit to take charge
of your brother. When you are engaged to be married you are a woman; I
shift my load on you then."
"And you wish it?"
"I repeat I have no wishes in the matter."
"Give me time to consider."
"No. It must be decided now--that is to say if you do not wish Jamie
to be taken away. Don't fancy I want to persuade you; but I want to be
satisfied about my own future. I shall not remain in Pentyre with you.
As you enter by the front door, I leave by the back."
"Where will you go?"
"That is my affair."
Then in at the door came the two Scantlebrays and Jamie between them,
gagged and with his hands bound behind his back. He had run out,
directly his examination was over, and had been secured, almost
without resistance, so taken by surprise was he, and reduced to a
condition of helplessness.
Judith leaned against the mantel-shelf, with every tinge of color gone
out of her cheeks. Jamie's frightened eyes met hers, and he made a
slight struggle to speak, and to escape to her.
"You have a close conveyance ready for your patient?" asked Aunt
Dionysia of the brothers.
"Oh, yes, a very snug little box on wheels. Scanty and I will sit with
our young man, to prevent his feeling dull, you know."
"You understand, gentlemen, what I told you, that in the deciding
whether the boy is to go with you or not, I am not the only one to be
considered. If I have my will, go he shall, as I am convinced that
your establishment is the very place for him; but my niece, Miss
Judith, has at her option the chance of taking the responsibility for
the boy off my shoulders, and if she chooses to do that, why then, I
fear she will continue to spoil him, as she has done heretofore."
"It has cost us time and money," said Scantlebray, senior.
"And you shall be paid, whichever way is decided," said Miss Trevisa.
"Every thing now rests with my niece."
Judith seemed as one petrified. One hand was on her bosom, staying her
heart, the other held the peacock's feather before her, horizontally.
Every particle of color had deserted, not her face only, but her hands
as well. Her eyes were sunless, her lips contracted and livid. She was
motionless as a parian statue, she hardly seemed to breathe. She
perfectly understood what her aunt had laid upon her, her bodily
sensations were dead whilst a conflict of ideas raged in her brain.
She was the arbiter of Jamie's fate. She did not disguise from herself
that if consigned to the keeper of the asylum, though only for a week
or two, he would not leave his charge the same as he entered. And what
would it avail her or him to postpone the decision a week or a
fortnight.
The brothers Scantlebray knew nothing of the question agitating her,
but they saw that the determination at which she was resolving was one
that cost her all her powers. Mr. Obadiah's heavy mind did not exert
itself to probe the secret, but the more eager intellect of his elder
brother was alert, and wondering what might be the matter that so
affected the girl, and made it so difficult for her to pronounce the
decision. The hard eyes of Miss Trevisa were fixed on her. Judith's
answer would decide her future--on it depended Othello Cottage, and an
annuity of fifty pounds. Jamie looked through a veil of tears at his
sister, and never for a moment turned them from her, from the moment
of his entry into the room. Instinctively the boy felt that his
freedom and happiness depended on her.
One or the other must be sacrificed. That Judith saw Jamie was dull of
mind, but there were possibilities of development in it. And, even if
he remained where he was, he was happy, happy and really harmless, if
a little mischievous; an offer had been made which was likely to lead
him on into industrious ways, and to teach him application. He loved
his liberty, loved it as does the gull. In an asylum he would pine,
his mind become more enfeebled, and he would die. But then--what a
price must be paid to save him? Oh, if she could have put the question
to her father. But she had none to appeal to for advice. If she gave
to Jamie liberty and happiness, it was at the certain sacrifice of her
own. But there was no evading the decision, one or the other must go.
She stretched forth the peacock's feather, laid the great indigo blue
eye on the bands that held Jamie, on his gagged lips, and said: "Let
him go."
"You agree!" exclaimed Miss Trevisa.
Judith doubled the peacock's feather and broke it.